What He Can't Have
by AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva
Summary: Alternate ending to 12.8, 'Two Ships'. She was his best friend, his conscience, his roomie everything he could ever want and so much more than he would ever deserve. But she belonged to someone else. [RayNeela]


_Notes: This assumes that 12.8 picked up the day after 12.7 left off. That said, consider this an AU, as it's an alternate ending to 12.8, one in which Gallant **doesn't** show up._

_Rating: FRT (Fan Rated suitable for Teens and over)_

_Content Warning: None_

_Spoilers: Everything so far is fair game, but specific spoilers for "The Human Shield" and "Two Ships" (12.7 and 12.8)._

_Disclaimer: ER and its characters are the property of Michael Crichton, John Wells, Amblin Entertainment and Constant C Productions. No infringement intended, used without permission, please don't sue, yadda yadda yadda. Italicized dialogue was taken directly from episode 12.8; it isn't mine either.

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**What He Can't Have**

**© 2006, By: Ash Carroll (a.k.a. ShadowDiva)

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The ER doors banged open to admit Pratt, the paramedics, and Adrian Sianis, the newest trauma patient from the airplane crash. Ray fell into step alongside the stretcher and glanced over at his colleague.

"Where's Neela?"

The other resident concentrated on the chest compressions that kept the oxygen flowing to the patient's brain. He tried to keep his tone casual and non-committal - but he failed. "I don't know."

Ray's stomach formally introduced itself to his throat, and he shot his colleague an incredulous look. "What do you mean, 'you don't know'? She was at the crash site, right?"

Pickman rattled off Adrian's vitals, but Ray barely heard them as they headed for Trauma 1.

Pratt blew out a breath. "Yeah, she was there. But we were a block apart; we got separated."

They lifted the man from the stretcher to a gurney, and Ray tried to keep his voice even, but couldn't manage it. This was _Neela_ they were talking about. "Wait a minute - _was_ there?"

"Clear!" After making sure everyone had removed their hands, Pratt pressed the paddles to Adrian's chest.

_"Still v-fib,"_ Ray noted, glancing at the monitor before shifting his attention to the fourth year resident, unable to keep the edge of worry out of his voice. _"When was the last time you saw her?"_

Pratt resituated his hands. _"I told you, we were a block apart. Resuming compressions. Amiodarone's on board?"_

_"Five minutes ago."_ Ray answered, pinning him with a look that said it all. This is _your_ fault._ "You should've kept an eye on her, man."_

Pratt glanced at Sam. _"Pronestyl drip?"_

_"Infusing,"_ she replied, squeezing the ambu-bag.

Pratt turned his attention back to the other resident. _"What, you think you could've done better?"_

Ray just managed to resist the urge to wipe that smug look right off the other man's face. _You're damn right I could've. If **I'd** been the one to go, we wouldn't even be **having** this conversation!_

He glanced up, shooting an accusatory look at Pratt across the patient's torso. _"I wouldn't have let her go into a burning building. I sure as **hell** wouldn't have left her there!"_

The words were intended to hurt - delivered with just the right amount of bite - and the look on the other man's face was all the confirmation Ray needed that they'd hit their mark. But there wasn't time to argue it further, because Sam alerted them that Adrian was awake. With an effort, Ray forced himself to push thoughts of Neela aside - concentrating on the chest compressions he'd taken charge of as they waited for the Sianis family to arrive.

**0-0-0-0-0-0**

_"94 on room air. That's not great,"_ Abby noted as she listened to Neela's breathing, _"and there's some expiratory wheezes."_

_"Those'll pass,"_ Neela said.

_"Or get worse,"_ Abby countered. _"I'm a little bit worried, here."_

Neela stared at an unseen mark on the floor as her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and she wondered whether the racing of her heart was from the adrenaline rush, or if she was about to keel over. She forgot Abby was even there until the other woman chucked her lightly under to get her attention.

_"Hello?"_

She glanced briefly at Abby and spoke between the gasps and wheezes. _"Sorry. I was just...today was..._" She swallowed. _"Terrifying. And...amazing. There were no labs, no x-rays, no rapid insfusers or cut-down trays...just - **me**."_ She looked up at Abby through stinging, watering eyes. _"I mean, maybe it's the adrenaline, but...I feel high. I need to go back out."_

_"Sounds like I should call for a psych consult,"_ Abby opined gently as she handed her a nebulizer. And it felt like she was only half joking.

Neela sucked in a deep breath on the machine and met Abby's concerned gaze again. _"Still patients out there."_

_"Yes, and they're being handled."_

Inez approached then. Dubenko had called; Alice Watson died on the table.

_"Patient of yours?"_ Neela asked

Abby nodded. _"Impaled abdomen."_

Her mind flashed back to the woman in the basement with Gates. _"From the crash?"_

She nodded again. _"Mmm-hmm."_

God, she knew that woman. She'd taken care of her and her - _"Where are her kids?"_

_"Exam 2."_

She remembered Olive screaming in pain and fear at the crash site, and Ethan inside the building, scared out of his mind and counting on her to take care of him; to protect him. Who was going to do that now? Before Neela even realized it, she was on her feet and heading for Exam 2, heedless of Abby calling for her to come back.

They were sitting up in bed when she got to the door, and she watched them through the small window as they played with a couple of rubber glove balloons. She concentrated on breathing for a moment, trying to get herself under control before she passed out from hyperventilating. After a few moments, she managed to calm the wheezing. Steeling herself, she pushed open the door.

Ethan looked up at her as she entered. "Where's my mommy?"

He looked so lost, she wanted to cry. Her eyes stung, and she blinked hard, keeping the tears at bay. "I'm afraid I...have some bad news about your mother."

**0-0-0-0-0-0**

Something made Ray look up from where he was bent over, keeping compressions going on Adrian. He looked into the room next door and his heart constricted, relief flooding through him at the sight of Neela, alive and well.

_"Hey, Pratt, check it out,"_ he said, nodding his head in the direction of the glass window, bidding the other man to look through it

Pratt glanced at the scene, then turned back to face him. _"She's okay, then."_

_"Yeah,"_ Ray replied with a cock of his head and a half-wink that said they were okay. It was as much of an apology as the other man was going to get, and he seemed to accept it.

They continued with the compressions - alternating every so often - until all of Adrian's family had arrived and the man finally brought his hands up over Pratt's, signaling that he was ready for them to stop.

"Are you sure?" Pratt asked.

Adrian blinked once to indicate yes and the senior resident slowly removed his hands. The intermittent beeping of the heart monitor changed to a steady, high-pitched whine and his girlfriend looked down at him as the tears welled up and slid down her cheeks.

Ray caught the look Pratt sent him and stripped off his gloves as he glanced at the clock, forcing the words from his throat with an effort.

_"9:42 PM."_

**0-0-0-0-0-0**

Neela struggled with another coughing fit - eyes watering and chest burning - as she let herself into the apartment, bone weary and exhausted. Abby had begged her stay at the hospital, to be monitored, but she'd refused. She appreciated her friend's concern, but Abby didn't understand.

She'd known it was stupid to go into that building after Alice, but she was a doctor; her job was to save lives. And the adrenaline rushing through her veins was too good a high to resist. With all highs, though, there's a crash. And hers had come when she'd told Olive and Ethan about their mother.

It hit her. _She_ could've died. Someone could've been telling _her_ friends, _her_ family that she wasn't coming back. Suddenly she'd had the overwhelming urge to be home, where things were familiar; to make sure she wasn't stuck in some hellish form of afterlife where she didn't realize she was dead.

The cold metal of the doorknob against her hand had reassured her that she wasn't. She _was_ in desperate need of a shower, but walking the distance between the El station and the apartment - not to mention the building's front steps - had left her too winded to go any further than the couch where she was now curled up, trying to will her breathing rate back to normal.

Her chest hurt from coughing, but it ached with relief, too. She was alive, even if she did feel like crap on a cracker. She desperately needed a shower, but the last of the adrenaline had finally left her system and she didn't have the energy to drag herself off the couch.

_I'll just rest here for a few minutes,_ she thought as her eyes drifted closed and she surrendered to exhaustion.

**0-0-0-0-0-0**

It was 3 AM by the time Ray arrived home. He was supposed to have been on till eight, but after Abby had worriedly mentioned Neela refusing to stay the night at the hospital, Weaver had practically ordered him home make sure she was okay. He hadn't argued; he'd come damn close to losing her, and the very thought was enough to scare the hell out of him.

She was his best friend, his conscience, his roomie - everything he could ever want and so much more than he would ever deserve. But she belonged to someone else, and it was probably better that way. She wasn't his type; he wasn't hers. At least that was what he'd always told himself.

And he'd done a good job of believing it, too. Until Neela said Gallant's leave would be delayed and his response - "Oh, that's cool." - left his mouth before he could stop it, forcing him to make a half-assed attempt to cover it - "I mean, th-that's too bad." - and promptly change the subject. Until Pratt said he didn't know where she was - that they'd lost contact with her inside the burning building - and he'd felt his insides go ice cold, shatter like glass, and slice the lie to ribbons, leaving the truth in their wake.

One that he couldn't tell her, but didn't know if he had the strength to deny any longer.

She was curled up on the couch, asleep, when he let himself in. Setting his bag down in the corner next to hers, he carefully closed the door behind him, quietly crossed the room, and knelt in front of the sofa - relieved to see her breathing with relative ease.

A lock of dark hair fell across her face as she stirred and his fingers itched to brush it away, but he resisted and an ache spread through his chest as he looked down at her. Even with sooty smudges all over her face and the smell of stale smoke and ashes clinging to her, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen; the only one he wanted and the one he'd never have.

He hoped Gallant knew what a lucky bastard he was. 


End file.
